To relax, Malcolm likes to watch TV and I like to listen to Gospel CDs, which isn’t an issue until we happen to do them at the same time. The problem is our house is small enough that even at opposite ends, we can still hear each other’s choice of entertainment.

To resolve this, Malcolm bought me a set of wireless headphones. What a great idea! I’d be able to enjoy my music without overhearing the TV, and he’d be able to watch his shows without my music distracting him. Problem solved, right? Um, not quite…

I like to sing along with whatever artist I’m listening to. Which might be okay, except instead of singing lead, I usually pick up one of the harmonies. Singing along with the melody would at least sound somewhat decent, but if someone else, say someone watching TV, can’t hear the music, and can’t hear the melody, and can only hear one voice singing harmony … well, you can see how this might be a less-than-pleasant experience. And then when you consider the volume at which I’m hearing the music, coupled with the desire to hear my own amazingly talented voice (HA!), I end up singing much louder than I intended.

But Malcolm, being the wonderfully patient man he is, never said anything about it (although I did notice the TV would get louder and louder on a few occasions), until one afternoon I was wearing my headphones and “quietly” humming along while dusting in the living room where he was trying to watch something on TV…

Malcolm: “Remind me again why I bought you those headphones?”

Me: “It was so you could watch TV and I could listen to my music without disturbing you” … << pause >> “Ooooohhhhh….” << suddenly doubling over with laughter >>

How is it that after being handed my retirement package 3 1/2 months ago, or 15 weeks ago to be exact, I still feel so lost? By now, I figured I’d have landed on my feet and fully be taking advantage of this new-found time to do all those things that I’ve been putting off for too long. You know, important stuff, like cleaning out the linen closet or attacking the years and years of accumulated junk treasures that have taken over our basement. Instead, I spend most days exactly like I am right now … sitting on the sofa in my pajamas, wrapped up in a blanket, with my computer on my lap.

How the hell did this happen? I have zero motivation, zero direction, zero interest. I used to have a job that mattered, that I was proud of, and that I was very good at. I used to have a reason to get up in the morning, and a program for the day. And now? Now all of that is gone. And I know it’s only the external portion that was taken away, but it seems to have taken a huge part of ME with it. Malcolm sees what’s happening and tries to help, God knows he tries, but he can’t fix me. So let’s add a serving of guilt to the mixture. And it’s killing me because I know he deserves better – a better wife, a better partner – instead of this organism that’s stuck in neutral, slowly fusing with the leather sofa.

I don’t want to be like this, honestly, I don’t! I used to have focus, plans, goals … a freakin’ life for Pete’s sake! Now, with very few exceptions, it doesn’t matter if I even get dressed in the morning. But as much as I want to move forward, I’m held back by one teeny tiny detail … I.don’t.know.how. I don’t know how to move beyond this apathy and indifference. I don’t know how to put myself in ‘First Gear’, let alone ‘Drive’ again. And perhaps most troublesome of all, I don’t know how to be happy again.

But as much as my ability to motivate myself has been shattered, I still know one thing … awareness of a problem is the first step to overcoming it. So now I just have to figure out how to move forward. Maybe I’ll start by putting a Want Ad in the newspaper. It could read something like this:

WANTED: A life, with direction and meaning. Must come with motivation. Willing to work hard to get it, but need guidance on setting goals, and how to get started. Will trade lethargy, disinterest, and a couple pairs of well-worn pajamas.